


restitution

by spookykingdomstarlight



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: F/F, Fix-It, Post-Mass Effect 3, Sticking it to The Man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-10 11:53:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11691078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookykingdomstarlight/pseuds/spookykingdomstarlight
Summary: They might no longer fight Reapers, but there were still threats out there. All the ones they charged toward had Miranda on the top of their list.Shepard… she was probably pretty well up there, too.





	restitution

**Author's Note:**

  * For [worstcommander](https://archiveofourown.org/users/worstcommander/gifts).



“Now you’re just showing off,” Shepard said, her tone more than enough to convey the smirk she no doubt wore on her face. Because Miranda was rather busy solving the problem at hand, she couldn’t verify it by turning around to _look_ at Shepard, but she knew all the same and that was what mattered. The orange light of her omnitool flickered and faded and as she rose from her crouch, she dusted her hands together. The only illumination that remained came from the bank of computer terminals she’d just hacked into. Enveloped in near darkness, she smiled and inclined her head.

“I wouldn’t call beating your paltry record ‘showing off,’ Shepard,” she answered. Anyone might have confused the clipped, no-nonsense quality of her words for a brusque verbal slap, a dig meant to hurt, to silence.

Anyone would have been wrong because nobody understood.

Not like Shepard did. Laughing to prove the point, she clapped Miranda on the shoulder. And she tugged Miranda forward. And then she brushed at the lightweight armor she’d insisted Miranda adopt if they were going to be partners in crime—or partners in doling out justice as Shepard liked to call it. It depended on who you asked.

If they weren’t on a job, she’d have kissed Miranda, too. Miranda knew the look. But too often they were forced into jobs. So much clean up. Not enough down time.

Sometimes Miranda missed the _Normandy_ , how much easier things were.

They might no longer fight Reapers, but there were still threats out there. All the ones they charged toward had Miranda on the top of their list.

Shepard… she was probably pretty well up there, too.

Cerberus had been a hard beast to kill, a Reaper in its own right, as deadly as Harbinger and at least as insidious. But going after Cerberus’s backers? Going after the mighty shells that protected corporation after corporation from war crimes tribunals? Going after the people who believed in Cerberus not because they were indoctrinated, but because they had a lot of money invested in ensuring humanity won at any cost? There were entire colonies with flimsy targets on their backs because Shepard and Lawson stepped foot on their soil, nothing that would land them into trouble unless either of them returned.

It might’ve been a long few years, but Miranda wouldn’t have had it any other way. “We should probably get out of here,” Miranda added.

A tiny fragment of light winked off of the corner of the visor Shepard had taken to wearing since the end of the war. A nod of agreement. “I’d rather not fight my way through security,” she agreed, pleasant, though the way she clenched her knuckles suggested a fight wasn’t the last thing on her mind.

“You don’t think you can handle them?” Miranda’s eyebrow arched in just the right way to draw a disbelieving scoff from Shepard.

Shepard’s grin nearly split her face in two, a wide, shit-eating smile that had, once upon a time, made Miranda want to punch her for not taking anything seriously enough. She’d been wrong then, one of the few times in her life when that was true. She might have been as close to perfect as a person could get, but Shepard was exquisite in a wholly different way. “If you want to see me dance…” 

Now it was Miranda’s turn to scoff. Shepard spent far, far too much time with Vega even now and it showed. Pushing past her, Miranda motioned toward the exit and strode toward it, purposeful, an example for Sheard to follow. “I much prefer it when we keep the dancing to Purgatory.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Maybe.” Miranda turned to look at her, brief, biting back her own smile now. “Buy me a drink and find out.” Then she reconsidered. “On second thought, buy me several. I almost forgot I’ve seen you dance.”

Shepard’s laughter bounced off the concrete walls of the stairwell they stepped into, unseen and unheard. Easy. And growing easier with every mission. Missions like this made Miranda believe the end was in sight. Even despite the occasional difficulty finding safe harbor and even despite the occasional run-ins with security.

Shepard made Miranda believe the end was in sight. “You sound like Garrus,” she answered. Her happiness at that thought seeped into the huff of amusement that followed. Miranda wasn’t above the hint of satisfaction she still felt on amusing Shepard. She considered it an important achievement every time she accomplished it.

“I’ve seen Garrus dance, too.” Miranda wasn’t a sentimental person, but Shepard and her crew made her want to be. “There isn’t enough alcohol in the galaxy to erase _that_ image.”

“I’m telling him you said that.”

Miranda sniffed. For a moment, the only noise was the sound of their feet striking each step as they quickly and quietly wound their way to the first floor. It had seemed like such a fast trip up. Now each story passed with agonizing slowness. The only thing left to occupy themselves with was the hushed words whispered back and forth between them. The escape was always Miranda’s favorite and least favorite part. “Please do.”

“Hey,” Shepard said, grabbing hold of Miranda’s hand and stopping her cold. “We’ll get these bastards. Every last one of them.”

Miranda sighed, shook her head. They didn’t have time for this. “You always were too perceptive for your own good.”

“Yeah.”

Shepard’s pull became impossible to ignore; for once, they broke their own rule, Shepard’s lips soft and warm against Miranda’s. The touch was too brief and wild abandon sang in Miranda’s veins, tempered by Miranda’s thoughts, her rational mind. “We have to go, Shepard.”

“Yeah. Let’s go.” She nudged Miranda forward, her fingers splayed between Miranda’s shoulder blades. “There’s plenty more waiting for you when we get out of here.”

It was a promise and a tease both, a hint of normalcy in the midst of a hare-brained scheme. Miranda’s hare-brained scheme.

A part of Miranda might have wished things were simpler, but the real Miranda, the one exfiltrating the headquarters for one of the largest shuttle manufacturers in the colonies because they’d helped bankroll the Illusive Man, wouldn’t change a damned thing.

Not for all the safety and simplicity in the galaxy.


End file.
